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Journey to the end of the world nears the frigid finish line

After unexpectedly being forced to transport his horses across Chile in a trailer, cowboy faces the final 300-km push.

Filipe Masetti Leite riding on the coast of Tierra del Fuego near the city of Rio Grande. (Filipe Masetti Leite)

By Filipe Masetti LeiteSpecial to the Star

Sat., June 24, 2017

RIO GRANDE, ARGENTINA—Having survived the gruelling desert of Santa Cruz, we are met with equal parts love and bureaucracy in the provincial capital, Rio Gallegos.

“We are honoured to be hosting someone who has come from so far on horseback,” said Miguel O’Byrne, president of the Rio Gallegos Rural Society. “Whatever you need, just let us know.”

Rio Gallegos would be as far as we would be allowed to ride in continental Argentina. In order to enter Tierra del Fuego, we would have to cross 200 kilometres of Chilean soil and, unfortunately, Chile allows foreign horses to cross its land only in a sealed trailer.

I was heartbroken that I wouldn’t be able to trek through Chile, but more worried that I wouldn’t be able to continue at all.

‎For an entire week, Toti (my support driver Sebastian Cichero) and I ran around like headless chickens trying to get all the paperwork ready to ship my horses Sapo and Picasso to Tierra del Fuego Island, off the southernmost tip of the South American mainland. We had to get the horses’ blood work done and bring their vaccinations up to date, hire a logistics agent to deal with the Chilean and Argentinean customs officials and find a trucker to haul the horses south for free. After one year and two months on the road, I was broke.

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It was a week of hell. But with the help of several members of the Rio Gallegos Rural Society, things moved much quicker, and the process ended up costing a lot less than we ever imagined.

The only problem was our dog, Butch Cassidy: For a dog to cross Chile, it needs to have been vaccinated against rabies at least one month prior to the trip. Because Butch was a street dog we picked up in El Bolson, he didn’t have any shots. We were sad to leave our puppy behind, but a friend from the rural society offered to take care of him until we returned.

On a chilly, grey Monday morning, nine days after riding into Rio Gallegos, we finally loaded the horses into a large cattle truck and made the drive to Tierra del Fuego. The trip took us across two borders, down a slippery, muddy road that almost stopped us in our tracks several times, and finally to a somewhat disappointing ferry full of trucks that transported us across ‎the Strait of Magellan. No romantic notions here.

After 25 hours, including a sleepless night at the final border, we unloaded Sapo and Picasso one kilometre from the Chile-Argentina border at Estancia San Martin.

“Welcome to Tierra del Fuego, my friend,” said Jorge Lopez, the truck driver who hauled the horses free of charge.

While we drank mate with the manager of a local ranch, he told us that when the first explorers arrived on the coastline by boat, they saw large bonfires throughout the island. To survive low temperatures and long winters, the Indigenous people never let fire die. “That’s why the island is called Tierra del Fuego” (Land of Fire), said the stocky manager.

That night we were treated to a traditional lamb barbecue as well as a gigantic bottle of Jack Daniels and five bottles of champagne. I felt like I had won a championship race. But the next morning I felt like I had crashed into a wall at 200 km/h.

Hungover, I saddled Sapo under heavy, wet snow to begin our final 300-kilometre push to Ushuaia — the southernmost city in the world and our finish line. I wanted to feel excited about entering the final stage of this journey, but with the thermometer reading -3 C, all I felt was pain.

On the road to Rio Grande, the largest city on the island, we spent a night at one of the oldest and most important ranches in Tierra del Fuego. With 65,000 sheep, 300 cows and 120 horses, the stunning Estancia Sara employs more than 20 families and even has its own rural school.

“We run the largest sheep operation on the island today,” said Jorge Barria, the manager of the estancia over a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Barria explained to us just how hard ranching is here on the island. Long winters, freezing temperatures, snow and llama-like guanacos are the type of problems we’ve heard about during our travels in the province of Santa Cruz. But here, they have another terrifying factor — wild dogs.

It is estimated that these beasts kill 10,000 head of sheep a year. An average rancher will slaughter 60 to 70 wild dogs each year in this region, yet the population continues to grow. Speaking to a rancher who runs a ranch 60 kilometres southwest of Rio Grande, we were able to understand just how big the problem is: “I used to have a flock of 22,000 sheep in 2010; today I have only 4,000 animals left,” said the elderly gentleman with sad eyes.

A large pack of wild dogs can take down a horse if they’re hungry. And more than 600 people report being attacked by these beasts every year.

The stats were terrifying and left Toti and I worried about our horses and our own lives.‎ With 210 kilometres of freezing temperatures, ice-covered roads, heavy snow and howling winds ahead of us, we now have to worry about vicious wild dogs.

We truly are at the ends of the Earth.

Filipe Masetti Leite is a filmmaker, Ryerson University journalism graduate and cowboy en route to Tierra del Fuego. He is filing monthly reports to the Star from the trail. Dispatches from both this yearlong trip and his 2012 journey from Calgary to Brazil can be found here.

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